Blood of the Highlands

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

They were in position. Tormand looked around at his men. They had another hour before sunrise. The plan was to cause a disturbance; when the MacGuin's came to investigate, his men would circle around and attack them from behind.

"Chief, do you hear that?" Tor glanced at Balfour, his brows furrowed. "Weeping?" the other man nodded. Signaling his men to stay put, Tor silently moved through the wood towards the strange sound. What would a woman be doing all the way out here? They were at least two miles from the village. Hoping she wasn't hurt; he quickened his pace.

Panic had started to set in. Persais sat down behind a tree; leaning back she threw her arm over her eyes. God's bones what had she done? She couldn't go back now; she'd made her decision. Wiping the wetness from her eyes, she looked at her surroundings. It was eerily quiet tonight. Scooting closer to the tree, she hugged her knees close. Persais didn't like being alone, especially at night. She began to weep. Persais rarely cried, but when she did she made sure she got it all out of her system. Crying was a nasty business; wet face, runny nose, puffy red eyes. She didn't like it, but she figured with what she was about to do a good cry wouldn't hurt. Tears were weakness and she damn sure didn't need any of that where she was going.

Her senses suddenly flaring to life, she stopped crying. Reaching out with her ears she listened for what had alerted her. She didn't hear anything; slowly she got to her feet. Keeping her back against the tree, she waited. There it was a muffled footfall. Christ. Falcon had found her note faster than she'd expected. Her mind raced, if she went back now she'd be in even more trouble; the threat of marriage to control her wayward ways was now, if caught, a big possibility. Pushing away from the tree, she raced through the forest. Hearing a curse behind her, she ran faster. That didn't sound like Falcon. If her brother wasn't chasing after her, who was? The MacLeod's? Would they retaliate this quickly? Her pursuer was gaining on her; whoever it was he was fast. She could outrun most, but this man was not only keeping up with her, but getting closer by the second. Coming to the conclusion that she had no choice but to turn and fight, the decision was instead made for her as an arm wrapped around her waist. The pressure against her back brought her to the ground, hard. Muffling a groan, she heard the man on top of her curse. It defiantly wasn't Falcon.

Tackling her had been a mistake. The feel of the soft curves pushed up against him was overwhelmingly sensual and he'd been too damn long without a woman. Jesus the lass was as soft as a kitten. Mumbling a curse; he held her down and warned, "Don't move lass, I won't hurt you"

There was something dark and promising in his voice that sent a shiver down her spine. He felt oddly familiar and some of her tension eased.

"Who are you? What do you want?" she asked breathlessly, trying to force air back into her lungs.

He laughed softly; trying to get the wicked images of what he'd like to do to her out of his head. He replied "I don't think you're in a position to be making demands lass." In a more stern tone he asked, "What are you doing way out here, alone?"

Aside from his threatening tone, she felt oddly safe; warmth was beginning to spread through her in places she didn't want to think about; wicked places. What the hell was happening to her? Sure was a hell of a time for her body to betray her like this.

"That's none of your damned business," she said angrily.

Tormand was amused, the kitten apparently had claws.